Crazier
by mystripedskirt
Summary: It's not her and he knows that she knows he sees through her lie, but neither of them care enough to stop. CaB, NB, NS


Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

* * *

_You lift my feet off the ground  
You spin me around  
You make me crazier, crazier  
Feels like I'm falling and I  
Am lost in your eyes  
You make me crazier, crazier, crazier_

_-Taylor Swift "Crazier"_

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK, USA; 2009**

* * *

Carter Baizen has been distracted by blondes at many points in his life, but now he finds himself sinking deeper into each word that leaves Blair Waldorf's supple red lips. She looks pale and lost at the Palace bar, swirling her martini 'round and 'round, never spilling a drop. She is an image of pure, pristine perfection, even as she lays her sorrows on him.

"It'll be alright," he soothes her, lips dangerously close to her neck.

She doesn't seem to acknowledge how close his lips are to her neck, or perhaps she is adept at ignoring advances. He'll have to try harder.

A light brush grazes her neck when Blair finally darts her eyes at Carter's. There is the briefest of pauses before he's sure she's going to ask him to leave.

She doesn't.

Carter likes to think there is a God when he's lazily tracing circles into Blair's naked body. She's been asleep for hours, but years of being a nomad have left him an insomniac.

She's pretty as she sleeps, he thinks to himself. Blair is as still in sleep as she is in life, all poised loveliness. Serena was a tosser, rolling around until her long golden hair got lost in his. He remembers the dull ache he felt that morning in Santorini waking up alone.

He feels whole, here, with this girl.

This girl doesn't even know what she does to the boys around her and now she is here with him. He almost laughs when he realizes she stands for everything he was trying to rebel against. But now she has lost everything, so maybe they could be resurrected together.

The pigeons in Central Park have started to waken and the sun will be up within minutes, so Carter reluctantly lets go of Blair's hand as he lies on his back and tries to shut his eyes.

Blair's more like her best friend than she likes to think, because Carter wakes up in bed alone, again.

But maybe he's misjudged her, because she comes strolling out of her bathroom only two minutes later, all wet deliciousness in a silk bathrobe that clings to her tiny frame.

He throws a lopsided grin at her. He must still have something going for him, because her cheeks tinge pink at the gesture.

A glance at the clock sitting on her bed stand reveals the time.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" Carter asks.

He honestly doesn't care that she's skipped. It's just so un-Blairlike that he has to ask. It never hurt to be polite in these social circles.

Blair shrugs her petite shoulders and the robe dips dangerously low.

She eyes him watching, wondering, "See something you like?"

And he shuts his eyes, holding in a wince, because she sounds exactly like a certain blonde on a certain Greek island so many years ago.

He decides to stop playing her game, just for a second, to see how she reacts.

"This isn't you."

She shrugs again, all worriless and nonchalance, "I didn't like the old me. Nelly Yuki tells me no one else did either."

She adds, "Don't you _like_ the change?"

Her perfect eyebrow is raised at him, daring him to cross her. He won't.

Carter allows Blair to skip for the rest of the week. It makes him feel better in his mind to have some measure of control over this girl. What kind of guy is he becoming? He shakes his head to himself and wonders how he let this come to pass.

She doesn't let him bring her yogurt at the MET. She won't let him meet her in public. What most upsets him is the fact that she won't let him bring her flowers. Hell, he didn't even know he was the type of guy to buy flowers.

His shrink chalks it up to the L word. He stops going the next day.

He continues to let her ignore him public if she throws herself at him like this in private.

It's not her and he knows that she knows he sees through her lie, but neither of them care enough to stop. She's the first to see through his façade and he's the first to see her truly give up the pretense of Blair Waldorf.

He knows what it's like to live the lie and one day she has to ask him how he does it all.

"Show me how to live," she commands, her lips soft and pink.

He knows this has nothing to do with sex so he stops kissing her for a moment before nodding once.

But the playful Blair is still buried in there somewhere, because she says, "But not _right now_," in a slightly hoarse voice.

* * *

**ISTANBUL, TURKEY; 2009**

* * *

On a whim, he buys them one-way tickets to Istanbul.

She doesn't know what to pack for Eastern Europe, so she packs everything. It's summer, so she throws in cotton dresses and airy tunics and forgoes heavy denim for creamy linen shorts that match her Giuseppe Zanotti sandals.

When they arrive, Carter leads Blair on a walk along the Bosphorus strait. He watches her gaze in awe at the waterfront homes, colored salmon, teal, and cream.

The water is crystal clear and the fish swim around gaily. He puts down his backpack and leads her by the hand to the edge of the water. He slips off his Havainas and slips his feet into the water.

She hasn't followed so he turns around to look at her.

"I just got a pedicure," she offers as a reason for her hesitance.

He stares at her, then down at her feet, before responding, "I'm either going to drag your $500 sandals in with you, or you can slip them off and leave them behind you."

She gives a small groan in protest, but she's here to try something new, so she slips off her shoes and sits down next to him. _It's nice to be here, so carefree_, she thinks. As she lays her head on his steady shoulder, she closes her eyes to take the moment in.

She decides then and there that life is what you make of it. Perhaps he has taught her something already.

* * *

On Saturday, Carter wakes up before the sun and gently shakes Blair, telling her they'll miss the train to Gara de Nord in Bucharest.

She's naked and half-asleep when she lazily pulls the sheet to cover herself, muttering, "I didn't sign up to see any gymnasts."

"You're witty even as you sleep," he quips, smacking her right on the ass until she wakes up.

"Oh," she says, wide-eyed.

He raises an eyebrow, "Tell me someone's slapped you before."

She shakes her head at him.

* * *

**BUCHAREST, ROMANIA; 2009**

* * *

Once in Bucharest, Carter leads Blair by the hand to Militari, a district in the western part of the metropolis. He shows her the rundown apartment buildings from the Communist era. She looks on in wonder.

No one has ever showed her anything like this. In her world, everything was perfect and beautiful and labeled pre-war co-op on Park Avenue. It's different and she doesn't know what to expect next, but she finds it to be of her liking and grasps a little tighter onto Carter's welcoming hand.

* * *

**KIEV, UKRAINE; 2009**

* * *

They're in Eastern Europe for all of seven days before Blair starts to breakdown. Carter wants to believe he is imagining it, but he's not surprised when her side of the bed is cold one humid spring day.

It's lonely without her here, but if there was one thing Carter was used to, it was loneliness. Their tiny room in Kiev suddenly feels larger than a presidential suite, and he knows both. He's emptier here in this room than that creaky boat in Greece.

He doesn't bother calling because he knows that she won't answer.

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK, USA; 2009**

* * *

Blair's all cheeriness and fake smiles (more so than she used to be—it just feels too fake this time, if she is honest with herself) when she returns to New York. Serena is surprised to see her when she returns to Constance. Penelope tries to scoff at her in the hallway to no avail, but seriously, who scares Blair with a look she invented in first grade?

When her mother and Cyrus hold hands over the dinner table, Blair doesn't even bother to excuse herself as she throws up her favorite appetizer. The portabella mushrooms swirl delicately in the foyer toilet, circling roundabout like a fallen halo. Entwined hands remind her of Carter and Carter reminds her of what she doesn't deserve.

He's too new and unfamiliar and she knows the fluttering in her stomach has nothing to do with self-induced regurgitation (she hates the word bulimia) so she knows she has to let him go.

* * *

Grandfather Vanderbilt sends Tripp to her door with an invitation to their annual family gathering. She fingers the cream and black cardstock reverently and lets her thoughts drift to a simpler time, a time when she and Nate were meant to be.

She drifts back to a time when her dad loved her mom and no one ignored her for people named Roman and Serena. It's so much easier to fall into these old memories than to make new ones, so Blair _tries to_ forget her latest trip abroad as she pulls out old photo albums.

She gently touches the silky sheen of one of the albums, untying the bow to retrieve memories lost. The first image she sees tugs at her heart so hard that she almost forgets to breathe. Her hair is shorter and darker, its ringlets encircling her angled face. She is laughing in this photo, her hands entwined with Nate's. They are carefree and in love (or so she thought at the time) and he is wearing the hunter green Brooks Brothers sweater with her heart on his sleeve.

* * *

The Vanderbilt reunion is a mess, but Blair's only part of the problem. Her loose lips don't even begin to make her feel remorse as Mrs. SLUTkinson glares daggers at her from across the main living room.

Blair lets her eyes drift to the giant moose head hanging above the fireplace, making a face at the long dead animal before glancing around to make sure no one has seen her. They haven't.

She wonders to herself why Grandfather has such a fascination with taxidermy. She supposes it dates back to the times he took Nate and Tripp and the other cousins to hunt. Her father always mentioned how it was a disgrace to be a part of the NRA, a typical Republican thing to do.

* * *

"_But Daddy, I thought you said differences in people were good," a fourteen-year-old Blair had mentioned to her father._

_She hadn't meant to anger him. He'd been coming home later than ever these days and she didn't want to waste precious moments with him arguing over something so stupid as a political party._

"_Of course," her father had replied, "I would never judge your Nathaniel, Bear."_

* * *

"Stay."

With one single word, Blair Waldorf worms her way back into Nate Archibald's newly formed heart. But as he looks down at this miserable girl before him, he can see that she is no longer the Blair that he loathed dating, one marred by the confines of their world.

This Blair is lost, her expression mirroring the one he holds inside, the one he won't let his mother ever see. He takes one of her limp hands and holds it in his own. He's not surprised to feel the familiar tingle that rises in his arm as he sits down next to her on a bed he's very accustomed to sleeping on.

They sleep together without sleeping together. Blair's face is innocent as she unconsciously snuggles against him in the middle of the night. He easily tucks an arm around her small frame, brushing his fingers through her hair._It still smells the same_, he thinks to himself, before breathing in the familiar scent of fresh strawberries.

* * *

The world can't let them live in peace when someone sends Gossip Girl a blast about the King and Queen's reunion. They look happy for once, eyes closed and fingers entwined. Blair's chartreuse peacoat offsets his navy jacket perfectly as she holds the delicate bouquet he bestowed upon her.

It's no surprise when he receives multiple glares at school, mostly coming from his so-called best friend and then hers. It's alright until Jenny Humphrey comes up and angrily shakes her too-blonde hair at him.

Who do these people think they are?

Have they really forgotten? For most of their lives, it was always NateandBlair. They were one entity for all of New York to see. He finds it harder to slip into the easy pattern they once dominated until he looks across the hallway into Blair's big doe eyes. _Everything will be alright_, she seems to say at him. A small smile flashes across her face before she walks into AP French Literature.

Penelope has taken it upon herself to ignore Blair, but this Blair doesn't have time to be petty or plan her social destruction. She leaves Hazel and Isabel open-mouthed on the second-floor bathroom that they call their own. Nelly Yuki is no longer a part of her social circle.

An angry text from Chuck (the first in weeks) reads, 'Is this how it's going to be?—C'

She doesn't have time for this (or him) right now, so she deletes her text like she's deleted him (and someone similar to him, but she can't think about him/that/them right now, so she closes her eyes in near tears) and strolls down the hallways of Constance, seemingly happy for all of the world to see.

And for the most part she _is_ happy, the kind of lighthearted happy she used to be before everything went awry. It feels a lot like the calm before the storm, not that she would know, because she usually went sailing in clear weather.

* * *

She's sailing off the edge of Nantucket with Nate and Grandfather and a slew of other cousins, minus Tripp, when the wind whips her hair around her face and tangles it into knots.

Nate laughs, muttering, "You've been sailing with us before, Blair. We're not a gentle crowd," before pulling an elastic band from his wrist and handing it to his (new? old?) _girl_friend.

Blair eyes the band warily, asking, "And where exactly has this been?"

Nate's still laughing as he grabs her from behind, circling his arms around her narrow waist. One of his cousins snaps a picture of them, a gorgeous shot of a beautiful people on a beautiful boat wearing beautiful clothes. It'll later be printed in black and white, a glossy addition to Grandfather's Connecticut home. A low-quality version will somehow make its way into the society pages, earning Blair a smile from her very distant mother.

* * *

Blair and Nate are two and a half weeks into their _thing_, when Carter decides he's had enough. He's not man enough to admit he still receives these stupid alerts from Gossip Girl, but when he sees _hi-_ Blair (he reminds himself that she's not his) with this _boy_ she has dated for most of her life, he knows he must pull her out of whatever she thinks she is experiencing.

Carter spares one last glance at the large expanse of Mariinsky Palace before booking a plane ticket to New York. One's a much lonelier number than two. He thinks that it was nice to be a part of something, even if it was so brief.

Blair Waldorf still haunts his dreams.

* * *

Carter doesn't bother calling when he abruptly steps out of the elevator in the Waldorf-Rose penthouse. He still knows she won't answer.

She's inside talking to Nate, but their hands aren't clasped. He starts to walk toward them, but notices she isn't crying, either.

She's just shaking her head at the blonder boy, whispering, "It was nicer this time though, right?" to which he nods curtly (a gesture learned from yours truly) and turns.

Nate's frowning as he takes in Carter, before he turns back to Blair and asks, "What the hell is Carter doing here, Blair?"

This time Blair looks up and gasps audibly.

She looks directly into his eyes, but speaks to Nate, "I don't know."

Her voice is still the gentlest of whispers, but he can hear her from across the room. She did always have the gift to captivate others.

* * *

They don't sink back into their previous thing of hooking up and trying to make her change. She doesn't ask him why, but he knows she likes it when they do boring couple-y things like rent French indies (they're both fluent) and talk about themselves.

Blair takes the time to listen to his adventures across four continents and he takes the time to hear about her former dreams.

She surprises him one day by saying, "Maybe it's time to change my dreams," all smiles and a toss of her curls.

She hasn't smiled like this in months. There's a light glow in her eyes that he knows he didn't put there, but she did it herself, so he's still happy. They sit there entwined on her bed when she asks him if he likes her.

"Seriously?" he balks.

Blair shrugs and the casualness of this action unnerves him.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he replies, a little bitterly, "Of course I like you."

It isn't enough for her (it never is), so she continues, "How much do you like me?"

That question on any other girl would be playful, but she's all seriousness and straight faces, so he sits up straighter when he answers.

He's still Carter Baizen, though, so he playfully nudges her, whispering, "I _like_ like you a lot."

She rolls her eyes at his lightheartedness, but maybe it's enough for her now.

* * *

She allows herself to be seen in public with him a week before her graduation. Gossip Girl has a field day and it's the first alert he's been happy to see for years.

'Has former reigning King C (our original) finally settled down with Queen B? You know I'll find out. XOXO GG.'

* * *

It's not happily ever after, but they live on the Upper East Side, and not in some fairytale romance. He knows she dreams of her happy ending, but the story's changed so much the whole world's confused. None of this matters to him the instant he looks over at the brunette with brown eyes curled in a ball at the foot of his bed.

It is time that Carter took what he wanted and had the means to keep it. If he's honest with himself (as he's usually not), he'd like a piece of Blair Waldorf's broken heart. He'll search piece by piece until he can put it back together again. _How Humpty Dumpty_, he tells himself, but this too sweet side of him doesn't make him want to heave.

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK, USA; 2019**

* * *

It's a cold winter in New York City when Carter leaves work early to brave the wind outside. He's a native so he doesn't shiver when the blasts hit him directly in the face, but he feels it all around him.

There are numerous tourists gathered in front of the MET. They look lost like he was, once ago. This isn't their city, but they try to find their way on the jumbled streets of Manhattan.

"Excuse me," a middle-aged woman taps on his shoulder, "Do you happen to know which way Lincoln Center is?"

He gives her a polite smile even though he's in a hurry and points directly west, "Just take any of these streets west until you hit the other side of Central Park. You can't miss it."

He's almost late, but then he isn't.

He's one of the last people here (as usual), but delighted brown eyes open wide as they take in his disheveled appearance.

"You look tired," says a small voice, the small voice that he loves so much.

"I'm okay, sweetheart. How was your day?"

He scoops her in his arms before she wriggles her way out.

"You can't do that here!" she exclaims.

She glances around at her friends and flushes profusely. He puts his hands in his tan Burberry trench and bundles his too large scarf around her small neck.

"Daddy," his daughter continues, "Uncle Nate is not doing this embarrassing stuff to Holden."

Carter shrugs, eying his five-year-old, the spitting image of his wife.

"Holden's not as cute as you, Ava."

Nate's six-year-old turns around and laughs, "Thanks, Uncle Carter."

"No problem, kid," he replies, ruffling the small boy's thick blond hair.

Holden is tall and blond, even at five, with blue eyes more navy than cerulean. He's the spitting image of his mother, the beautiful and elusive Serena Archibald.

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK, USA; 2030**

* * *

Ava Baizen is sixteen when she discovers that she's in love with her best friend. Well, she has two best friends, but they're siblings and one of them is female, so she supposes that she just loves Holden.

She's at the Archibald townhouse on Park Avenue when she tells her other best friend this, Holden's younger sister Harlow. Harlow rolls her blue-green eyes and throws back her head in laughter.

"Why are you laughing?" Ava puts one hand on her hip and looks so much like her mother that Harlow stops laughing for all of five seconds.

The girls are the same age, but Harlow has inherited her mom's long legs and infectious laughter. Ava is six inches shorter than her 5'10" best friend, but they love each other all the same.

When she's done giggling — because this is about her brother, goddamnit — Harlow exclaims, "First of all, ewww. Holden's my brother. And second, I already knew that. I think the entire UES knows that."

Ava raises a quizzical brow as she responds, slightly huffy, "I didn't know that."

"It's okay. We can still be bffls. I won't hold it against you."

* * *

**PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND, USA; 2035**

* * *

They're in Rhode Island to celebrate Holden's graduation from Brown. He truly is his mother's son, through and through. He looks nervous at his own celebration dinner, something so unlike himself that Carter goes over to check on his daughter's boyfriend.

"Are you okay, kid?" he questions.

The boy looks like he wants to vomit when he nods, his smile not quite reaching his lips.

"It's okay if you don't know what you want to do. I know Cyrus helped you intern at his old firm before Yale, but you don't have to do it if you don't want to."

Holden shakes his head, blond tufts of hair shaking everywhere.

"That's not it," he insists.

The boy is nervous as he pulls out a too-familiar blue box with a crisp white bow atop it. Carter's seen this box before. He'd bestowed it upon his own wife so many years ago.

The boy's less nervous now, a telltale trait of van der Woodsen blood.

"I wanted to ask you for your permission for Ava's hand," Holden says, voice steadier than before, "I love her and I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

Carter wants to preach to the boy that they should wait because they're young and he's going to graduate school and she's still an undergraduate, but he's been this boy before. Hell, he still feels like this boy now, so he won't do anything to deter his daughter's happiness. She's more carefree than her mother was at this age and he would like to see her stay that way.

He gives Holden a slight pat on the back before saying, "Welcome to the family, son."

* * *

**NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK, USA; 2036**

* * *

_Carter and Blair Baizen  
and  
Nathaniel and Serena Archibald_

_Request the honor of your presence  
at the marriage of their children_

_Ava Victoria Baizen  
and  
Holden Cornelius Archibald_

_On Saturday, 5 of November  
2036_

_St. Patrick's Cathedral  
460 Madison Avenue  
New York, NY 10022-6810_

* * *

After a beautiful ceremony, the wedding guests ride in limousines to the reception at Tavern on the Green. When Blair lays her head on his shoulder, Carter takes his arm and places it over her.

He kisses the top of her head as he whispers, "I can't believe our baby's married."

Blair looks up at him with her big eyes and he sees they're full of tears, "I miss when she was a baby. I don't want her to be gone."

Carter laughs slightly, until his breath hitches. She's right. His wife was right more often than not, but he's sure of it this time.

"They'll live in the city eventually, baby. We'll visit them in New Haven."

She shakes her head, "It's not the same."

"She's been gone upstate for four years. We'll get used to this."

She's always needed reassurance.

* * *

It's the second dance and Carter leaps off his feet to sweep his baby girl into his arms.

"Daddy," she loudly whispers, "You'll step on my dress. Calm down."

She's so much like Blair that all he can do is smile so he doesn't do anything embarrassing like _break down crying_, but what Baizen did that? He shifts his gaze to his new son-in-law, who leads his mother in a dance that leaves most swooning. Serena doesn't look too much older than her son as she dances with him, carefree and happy.

He shifts his attention back to his daughter and holds her close because he doesn't want to let her go.

* * *

Blair needs a breather so she orders her obligatory Tanqueray martini. She takes it outside. She's surprised to see Nate outside, puffing on a Cuban cigar (even though they aren't quite legal, he always managed to sneak some in) and nursing a beer. He'd always preferred a simple Budweiser over aged scotch.

She swishes her way toward him, magnificent in a long gray sheath. When she's reached him, she giggles when she fingers his crooked bowtie. Serena had never been good with small details.

"Can you believe it?" she asks him, and he shakes his head adamantly. "Ava always had such a crush on him. Carter used to give me so much grief over it, about how _like mother, like daughter_ she was, falling in love with an Archibald."

"For shame," Serena chimes in, coming in behind them and kissing her husband lightly on the cheek.

She's drunk already, but she's Serena (even now), so she kisses Blair as well. She grasps both their hands and links them all together.

"I miss this. I miss us."

Blair laughs, responding, "You've always had us."

"Nooo," Serena draws out, "I mean old us, like way back when. I don't know. I think I drank too much champagne."

Nate tucks an arm around his wife and laughs, "Do you want to sit down?"

Serena snorts, but manages to make it sound delicate.

Blair scoffs, "Please, she just needs a grilled cheese with truffle oil."

Serena's eyes light up at these magic words and she turns around, attempting to find some poor guy in the kitchen to make her sandwich.

* * *

**TIRANA, ALBANIA; 2039**

* * *

Holden's graduated from Yale Law School with honors when Carter and Blair gift both he and their daughter with a co-op on East 76th Street.

Carter decides it's time to show Blair Eastern Europe properly, so he books another trip for them. He's sure this one will go better than the last.

They lunch on stone steps at the large pedestrian bridge in Tirana. He points out the buildings facing opposite of one another. One set is cream, the other set a light salmon. She's enamored by the pretty buildings and the simple people around them, but she closes her mouth in delight as he feeds her native food.

They walk the ancient stone steps of Petrela Castle together when Blair accidently trips near the top. Carter's there to catch her so she won't fall and neither of them miss the allegory here.

* * *

Eastern Europe begins to tire them as they miss their only daughter, so they take the Monday flight home, hands entwined on their flight. They're flying business class, so Carter has to get up from his seat to kiss his wife before settling down again.

Her big brown eyes never fail to make him feel whole as she gives him a light smile and says, "Thank you."

Her response is loaded with everything they've been through—each other, their daughter, the world—so he tells her, "You're welcome," with a cheeky grin that makes her face light up.


End file.
